


i'm drunk, i'm all alone and i need you now

by danishsweethearts



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Drunk Noctis, M/M, POV Outsider, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 09:08:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15240069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danishsweethearts/pseuds/danishsweethearts
Summary: Noctis gets drunk at a royal function, and it leads to an interesting conversation when Ignis drives him home.





	i'm drunk, i'm all alone and i need you now

**Author's Note:**

> just cleaning up and posting some old drafts... rip noct my boy
> 
> title from need you now by lady antebellum. the song isn't actually relevant to the fic but i couldn't pass up on the title.
> 
> [talk to me on tumblr!](https://danishsweethearts.tumblr.com/)

The Prince was in one of his moods.

Granted, this was not an uncommon occurrence. A couple of years ago, Ignis would not have blinked an eye at the way Noctis was scowling as he stood off to the side at a royal function. These moods were appearing far less of late; a development that could be entirely pinned on one Prompto Argentum—which brought Ignis to his current conundrum.

He wasn’t entirely sure  _ why _ Noctis was in this mood.

The Saturday had begun entirely normally. Noctis had slept in, Prompto had come over and dragged him out of bed, and by the time Ignis showed up at Noctis’ apartment to make lunch and get Noctis ready for the function, they were hours deep into whatever video game they were currently taking in. It was very routine.

The only difference between this day and any of the others was that Noctis, throughout the afternoon, had been unusually focused on Prompto. Enough that even Prompto noticed; he had nervously brought up the staring after they had lost the third game in a row mostly due to Noctis’ inattention.

Of course, Noctis denied anything being different. The two boys had ended their hangout on their usual good, familiar terms, and Ignis was left to deal with the sudden downturn in Noctis’ mood right afterwards.

Perhaps it was the fact that Noctis had to attend this ball. In all honesty, it was not very interesting at all, and Ignis couldn’t quite blame the prince. Still, Noctis had never taken well to his royal duties cutting into the time he could be spending with his best friend, but he had matured lately—enough that he would keep his brooding restricted to internal or in very private settings.

It was this—the fact that Noctis had been grinning and bearing his royal burden fairly well lately—that lead Ignis to be a little more lenient with his current funk. He was the Prince, but he was also only seventeen. 

When Noctis reached for a glass of whatever alcoholic drink was set up on the serving tables, Ignis did not protest. The second glass was received with some doubt, but Ignis held his tongue.

He was not witness to the third, maybe fourth, glass, but judging from the way Noctis was leaning on Ignis as they made the walk to the car after the ball ended, they had definitely happened. Ignis didn’t approve, but Noctis had kept to himself the entire night, causing no international scandals from drunk antics, so he supposed he could overlook it. Just this once. 

Truly, Noctis was very tame for the entire night. The real unruliness, spurred on by the alcohol in his veins, began when they entered the car.

They were sitting in traffic. Noctis had apparently fallen asleep for a minute or so, because when Ignis moved the car again he was jolting awake.

“H-huh?” Noctis mumbled, blinking his eyes as he took in his surroundings. He was somewhat on guard, body tensed and held away from his seat, but when he realized where he was, he was sinking back into the plush seats again.

“Specs?” Noctis asked sleepily.

“Yes, Your Highness?” Ignis replied, eyes not moving from the busy road.

Noctis was, in fact, not asking something of him. Ignis realized, with the Prince’s next word, that he was actually doing something more similar to taking a roll.

“Gladio?” Noctis continued.

“No, it’s just me tonight,” Ignis replied.

Noctis seemed to think that one over. He apparently came to a conclusion. “So no Prom.” He said. A correct conclusion.

“That is correct,” Ignis replied, somewhat amused.

Noctis did not react to that answer like Ignis would’ve expected. It was hard to keep his eyes on the prince as he was driving, but he could catch the way Noctis curled into himself, a pout forming on his face as he drew his arms around himself.

“Good,” Noctis mumbled. “That Prom’s not here. That’s good.” 

_ That _ was definitely unexpected. Ignis’ mind filled with possibilities; a falling out, perhaps? Though he hadn’t witnessed any animosity when Prompto had been over earlier, maybe it was the source of Noctis’ bad mood?

“Why is that?” He asked, keeping his tone level.

“I’m mad at him,” Noctis said flatly.

So he was right about the falling out.  He felt a spark of alarm at the thought of Prompto and Noctis fighting that was too intense to really pin on the excuse of looking out for Noctis’ wellbeing. While he was concerned for it, he had to be truthful with himself—he was also quite fond of Prompto, and how Noctis was around him. Prompto had an ability to just make things… easier when he was around; moods were lighter, problems seemed less looming, smiles came quicker.

Ignis resolved to get to the bottom of this fight right now, and possibly knock some sense into Noctis about it. He had tackled a lot of very unorthodox complications in his time as Noctis’ advisor; this was no different.

“And why is  _ that _ ?” He repeated, adding a little more pressure into his words.

His critical gaze, darting between the road and Noctis’ image in the mirror, could easily catch Noctis uncrossing his arms to instead clench his fists in his lap, jaw hardening.

“Because,” Noctis declared, voice a decibel higher than anything he had said prior, “he’s too cute.”

Ignis didn’t lose composure. But, if he was pressed, perhaps by somebody he respected enough, he might admit that their stop at the red light in front of them was not as smooth as usual.

He just needed a moment to wrap his mind around  _ that _ statement.

The silence hung in the car like a third passenger; Noctis was still staring angrily into the distance and Ignis was pouring all of his concentration on the road to avoid saying anything he didn’t mean. He almost forgot to reply, how caught up he was in staying dead in the centre of their lane.

“Is that so?” He finally responded.

He could see Noctis’ adamant nod in his periphery. 

“He is so cute. So, so cute,” Noctis grumbled, crossing his arms again with the petulance of a twelve year old child. Now that Ignis had had his allotted three seconds of time to come to terms with any unexpected situation, his composure was together enough to keep him from laughing at the image.

Crown Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, drunk and sleepy, sat in the backseat of his car, fuming mad because of a cute boy.

Ignis huffed out a laugh. He couldn’t help it. Noctis, despite being drunk and deep in his feelings, still picked up on it. He misinterpreted the intent behind the laugh, however, because he was then leaning forward in his car seat to talk almost directly into Ignis’ ear.

“No, Specs, you don’t get it! He’s so fucking pretty! Have you  _ seen him? _ ” Noctis was probably looking for assent. Despite how insistent he was, Ignis’ having seen Prompto did little to change his reaction to the Prince’s words. Ignis had never really paid any mind to Prompto’s appearance, aside from his initial first impression of  _ looks like a punk _ —that he still regretted—and so couldn’t offer Noctis the solace he was looking for.

Now that he was thinking about it, he guessed he could see some of the appeal in the boy. However, he could also recall the shine in Noctis’ eyes as he was speaking about Prompto that hinted very strongly at a bias from the Prince’s side.

They came to another traffic light. Noctis found this an appropriate time to continue. Ignis came to the realization that his crown prince was fully intent on drunkenly ranting about his crush while he had no way to escape.

“Like, have you seen his smile, Specs? It’s so fucking  _ bright! _ A-and his eyes! They’re so… gods, the colour... they’re unreal! I’ve never— _ never _ seen that colour before! It’s like… like… blue skies o-or lavenders or clear lakes or—or something!” Noctis grew more heated with each word. “And his… his  _ freckles _ ,”

Noctis’ tone was full of incredulity. Apparently, he was so insulted by Prompto’s freckles, he couldn’t even find something to wax poetic about.

“His freckles,” Ignis said dryly. 

“ _ His freckles _ ,” Noctis repeated emphatically, augmenting his words with rapid nodding.

It was probably somewhat treasonous to laugh at your prince’s romantic woes. Ignis, bearing this in mind, managed to only let a smile cross his face.

Noctis sighed and it seemed like all of his anger went out with it, because he was slumping back into his seat with fatigue.

“I hate him,” Noctis mumbled, more to himself than anything. “I hate him and his face and his smile and his—his everything. Everything. I hate it.”

Ignis’ smile this time was softer, weighed down with fondness.

“I don’t think you mean that, Your Highness,” Ignis said gently. Noctis sighed again. He nodded with the air of a defeated man.

“I don’t,” Noctis whispered, sounding vulnerable and fond and awfully like he was confessing to Prompto himself, and not pouring his heart out to his lifelong companion and advisor in a car. “I like him. I like him so much,”

He was nothing but sincere. Noctis’ moments of emotional vulnerability were far and few between, and this particular one had to have been spurred on by liquid courage, but they were never, never false. He drew his knees to his chest.

Ignis sighed, soft enough that the prince wouldn’t pick up on it. Because that was where the problem lay. Noctis was the Prince. Ignis hated to say it—hated to even think it, but Noctis was the prince before he was anything else. Before he was a lovestruck boy, before he was a seventeen year old, maybe even before he was himself.

And while this fact bore repeating, and soon, Ignis couldn’t bring himself to voice it as he watched Noctis’ withdrawn form in the background.

He became even less inclined to, when Noctis whispered into his knees, “I think I might love him.”

He pulled into the parking lot of Noctis’ apartment building. That was a problem they could deal with in the morning, or maybe much later. For tonight, Ignis would leave Noctis be.

When he had eased Noctis into bed, there was barely a pause between his head hitting the pillow and him falling asleep. Still, it was enough for the prince to mumble a “G’night, Ignis,”, a rare use of Ignis’ actual name.

Smoothing down the blankets around the sleeping boy, Ignis murmured back “Goodnight, Noctis.”

* * *

 

Ignis knew that Noctis definitely had not been that drunk that he couldn’t remember anything. It was why, the next day when a text message from the prince lit up his phone, he was not surprised.

_ Specs, _ it began.  _ If you have any respect for me as a person (and need I remind you, as your prince) you will never speak of last night again. Not even to me. Especially not to me, in fact. _

Ignis, with nobody to witness it, grinned without abandon. They would have to talk about it eventually, no matter how mortifyingly embarrassing it was for Prince Noctis, but Ignis would indulge him for a few more days.

After all, it was always more satisfying to strike when the target was lulled into a false sense of security. Ignis would bring it up at just the right moment—he prided himself on impeccable timing.


End file.
